![Post Image](https://xjv926.p3cdn1.secureserver.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/EveryYearIsAFormativeYearImWrite-e1662428613130.jpg?time=1725465522)
My childhood wasn’t necessarily bad, but I wouldn’t describe it as ideal either.
.
Always had a roof over my head and never starved. Basic essentials were taken care of. However, what we describe as “basic essentials” for a healthy childhood today are (thankfully) changing. My parents lived and died by the basic essentials mantra of “at least you were clothed and fed.” This was true. But where my parents fell short was providing an emotionally stable and mentally healthy childhood. Simply put, they weren’t equipped, it wasn’t in them. Likely because they weren’t taught.
.
That said, my formative years (which are zero to eight, plus or minus, depending on who you speak to), although sheltered and well fed, were emotionally malnourished. The ripple effects of that starvation reached well into my 30s to middle age (whatever that is).
.
But even from eight to 38, though I was supposedly “formed”, I was actually still being formed. I was still being worked on and worked with. It’s not unique to me. We’re all trying to manage childhood behavioral habits. These ways of being can be positive or negative. Nonetheless, we manage them or let them manage us. But throughout the years, growth is inevitable.
.
We experience things good, bad or indifferent that cause us to take various forms whether we’ve sanctioned the experience or not. We never stop growing and even if we get set in our ways, mistakenly believing the clay is dry, life does an unexpected super soaker drive-by rendering us pliable again.
.
Here’s my journey of tearing myself down – to the studs and rebuilding.
.
Teens – Externally impressionable only
Like a lot of teenagers, my friends mattered most to me. More than that, friends were the only “place” I could seemingly receive acknowledgement of worth. Again, not that my parents didn’t love me, but they weren’t capable of teaching self-worth as a result, I had very little of it. Therefore, I sought external validation from my friends the same way I yearned for it from my parents as a little girl.
.
Twenties – Barely pliant, with necessary cracks in the foundation
Married with kids. Growth was inevitable but I was still enslaved to the habits and societized chains of the past (i.e., to be a good wife and mother, it was my job to take care of everyone else to my own detriment). I questioned things but refused to answer them honestly. Red flags, NO, huge red banners would appear before I embarked upon something obviously harmful and I still went forward, eyes wide open.
.
Thirties – Decade of dismantlement
Metamorphosis is an understatement. I began challenging my parents (although one was deceased) and filed for divorce. My past, present and future were all under cross-examination. Family, friends, bosses, co-workers and colleagues were assessed to see if they’d remain as part of the inventory, because I’d finally started to learn not to put myself up for sale, and some of those in my space, had to go. Growing a new backbone was immensely painful, but it gave me a better structure and framework.
.
Now – Taking Shape
My emotional coming together is (while a work in progress) pretty solid. I know what I know and am steeped in what I don’t know. I’m confident and comfortable in my accomplishments and insecurities alike. I’m learning to lean in to fears and challenge the BS of the past I allowed myself to believe. One of those fears is the excuse of age. I remember putting off progress in my 20s thinking I was too damn old for certain things. Adversity gave me the tools I needed to shovel that shit into the grave it belonged in. I’m ever forming, remaining stagnant is in opposition to that.
Comments are closed.